The Ball Drop
by Zoe7
Summary: Oliver has unwittingly ruined Felicity's special night. How does he make it up to her?


I decided to write some Olicity fluff in honor of New Year's Eve. Just a one-shot, nothing special. Although you'll have to read it to the end to get the full meaning of the title. :)

"Arrow" and all associated characters belong to DC and the CW and everyone who is not me, etc.

* * *

"Well, that went.. about as usual," Diggle announced as he 'helped' Oliver into the lair, with one of Oliver's leather-clad arms around his neck.

"So I may have misjudged that drop a bit," Oliver replied. "I'm fine."

"As usual," Diggle replied with a smirk as they stumbled further in.

Across the dimly lit space, Felicity sat at the computer console. She obviously heard them come in, even saw their approaching reflections in the glossy screens, but she continued to sit at her post. Oliver suddenly realized how strange this was: one of the first things to greet him in the lair after a nasty brawl with a nastier foe was always her face looking up at him, always with an expression of relief and contentment, sometimes coupled with a few words of satisfaction masked with sarcasm, or just a quiet sigh. Not that Oliver noticed this kind of thing. Or even cared. It was just strange. Also strange was the fact that her hair was not pulled back in the simple taut ponytail she always wore. It cascaded down her back in waves of soft gold.

"Felicity," Diggle called. "A little help?"

Soundlessly, Felicity pivoted in her chair and stood to face them. Her face betrayed a look of brief annoyance before softening to concern. "What happened?"

"Somebody decided to jump onto a fire escape that hadn't been used in a hundred years," Diggle explained as Felicity hurried over to them. Oliver again tried to not notice that she wore a figure-hugging dress of burgundy red, with black stiletto heels that made her legs look- Oliver snapped his eyes up to Felicity's worried face.

"You look terrible," she breathed as she took his arm from Diggle and wrapped it around her own neck for support.

"You don't," Oliver heard himself say. She also didn't smell terrible, either. He tried not to breathe the intoxicating scent too deeply as she led him to a nearby chair.

"I'll go get the first aid kit," Diggle called as he disappeared into an adjoining room. As Felicity helped Oliver out of his leather Arrow coat, her hair briefly touched his shoulder. He tried not to notice how soft it was, softer even than her small hands that gingerly touched around his shoulder wound. He looked over at her face, now inches from his, but her expression was all business, and her gaze was focused entirely on his injuries. She seemed distracted by something, and not in the usual way she seemed distracted when he had his shirt off, which he also never noticed, of course.

"You look really nice. What's the occasion?"

Felicity tore her eyes from his shoulder and gave him a withering look of annoyance. Oliver wrinkled his brow in confusion. "What?"

Diggle returned with the kit, setting it on the table next to them and popping it open. Felicity ignored Oliver's questioning face and looked over at Diggle as he handed her some bandages. "Did you at least catch them and stop the robbery?"

"All but one," Oliver replied. "The getaway car. It.."

"Got away?" Felicity cocked her head to one side. Oliver just looked back at her. She was feisty tonight. He watched her as she handed the bandages back to Diggle and walked back to her computer console. "I'm tapping into the traffic cams and patching into the police feeds. Do you have a description of the car? License plate? Anything?"

"A black sedan, A36 L4D," Oliver replied. Diggle just smirked as he began to tend to Oliver's wounds. "What's with her?" Oliver said to Diggle under his breath.

Diggle gave him a confused smile. "You sure you didn't hit your head when you landed on the ground?"

"What do you mean?" Oliver replied. "Ow!" he added as Diggle patted his bandage a bit too harshly.

"Got it," Felicity tried to mask her excitement but she practically shouted the words. She quickly tapped on her keypad as she bent over the console. "A black sedan matching those plates is heading down 5th towards the Warehouse district, not far from here."

Diggle and Oliver both walked over to the console to watch the screens over Felicity's shoulder. "Should I call Detective Lance?" she asked, putting her earpiece back in.

"No, I got this," both men replied, then looked at each other in surprise. "Diggle-" Oliver began.

"Oliver, you're sitting this one out. I can handle this. Besides, Felicity has my back. She'll call in reinforcements if things get rough, right?" Diggle looked down at her, and she turned and looked up at him, giving him a quick nod and a slight smile. Diggle squeezed her shoulder in thanks before turning back to his friend. "Sit. Rest," he pointed to a chair as he began to walk towards the door.

Oliver wasn't far behind him, and he caught Diggle before he reached the exit. "Diggle, wait."

Diggle turned to look at him. "Oliver, it's one guy in a getaway car. I can handle this."

"It's not that. What am I missing out on here?" he said, nodding his head toward the blonde at the computer. "Obviously I interrupted a date or something, but she didn't have to come in."

Diggle gave him a look of incredulity. "Really? You called her cellphone four times, and when she finally picked up on the fifth, you said, and I quote-"

"Where the hell are you," Oliver finished the sentence, suddenly remembering. Oliver closed his eyes in defeat. When he opened them again, his eyes were fixed on the floor. "It was important. What we do is important."

"It is," Diggle nodded when Oliver looked back up at him. "But sometimes our lives are important, too."

Oliver looked over at Felicity's beautifully styled hair for a moment before looking back at his friend. "How much trouble am I in?"

Diggle couldn't help but smile. "You do know what day it is, right?"

Oliver shrugged. "December something."

"Oliver," Diggle said with ultimate deliberateness, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, enjoying every second, "It's New Year's Eve."

Oliver closed his eyes again as Diggle tried to stifle a chuckle. "Like I said, I can handle the getaway car. You get to handle this. Good luck."

* * *

Felicity sat at her desk as her chin rested on her hand. On one computer screen, a live shot of the thronging crowds of Times Square practically vibrated with excitement, with a small countdown timer in the corner reading 1:57. On another screen, four closed-circuit camera feeds displayed a dark, desolate alleyway and parking lot near a warehouse. She tapped her fingers quietly on the desk.

Oliver, now wearing a clean grey cotton shirt, soundlessly appeared behind her and placed a hand on her chair. Besides her back straightening a bit, she made no indication of his presence. "Felicity," he began.

The black sedan appeared in the top right camera feed, then made its way to the third box before stopping. Felicity turned her head towards Oliver with a curt "Be with you in a moment, sir," then touched her earpiece and talked into the mic. "Dig, looks like sedan is stopping outside of 49 East Warf. There's an alleyway on Bayside drive between 5th and Sumter where you should be able to get the drop on them."

"I see it. Thanks." Diggle's voice was clear over the radio connection in Felicity's earpiece.

"Felicity," Oliver began again.

Felicity sighed audibly, then slowly turned her chair to face him. She forced herself to meet his gaze.

"I'm sorry." The apology simple and direct, but Oliver's face and voice emphasized the power of his words. Felicity couldn't help but soften. "I know. I just want to be mad, okay?"

"You were important to the mission. I wouldn't have called-"

"FOUR times."

Oliver briefly looked past her head before returning her gaze. "Four times... if I didn't need you in on this."

Felicity stood up and stepped toward him. "We had reserved a table at Skybar. Drinks! Fireworks! Kisses! Do you know how long it's been since I've gone out for drinks? Or seen fireworks? Or been kissed?"

Oliver just looked at her with sad eyes.

"You," she said, gesturing at him wildly, "You're Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy. You probably get drunky kiss fireworks every night. But I'm just the IT girl. Do you know how often the IT girl gets asked out? Hardly ever!" After a beat, Felicity blinked. "Well, recently I'm getting asked out all the time, but that's because I'm not the IT girl anymore, I'm the secretary, but I think it has more to do with a rumor going around the office that I slept my way into this secretary job, which is pretty ironic.."

Oliver's head sunk in acknowledgement. Felicity picked up on this with a look of derision. "Which of COURSE you knew about."

"Isabel may have mentioned something. I told her it wasn't true."

Felicity nodded and smiled sarcastically. "Here's a tip: When you call me four times while I'm on a date, it doesn't exactly help my case here."

Oliver didn't know what to say. "I'll get you a beeper."

Felicity just stood there blinking for a moment, before a small smile crept onto her face and she had to stifle a laugh. Oliver joined in the laughter, relieved to see her smile.

"Honestly, I'm not even mad at you," Felicity confessed as she wiped a tear from her eye before it could fall. "I'm mad at those stupid bank robbers. I'm mad at Brad from Accounting for asking me out because he thought I was the office slut. I'm mad at myself for going out with him even though I knew he was only asking me because he thought I was the office slut. I just wanted.. I just wanted.." she was trying with all her might not to break down sobbing. One tear managed to break free and ripple down to her chin.

Oliver stepped even closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey," he whispered. "What can I do?"

As if on cue, the computer screen showing Times Square began to bark out a countdown: "10.. 9.. 8.." Oliver and Felicity both turned to watch the screen. "4.. 3.. 2.. 1.. HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

They turned towards each other and smiled, giving each other an awkward hug. "Happy New Year, Felicity," he whispered into her soft, perfumed hair. "You too," she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and let her hands grasp the back of his broad shoulders. He kissed her forehead, and as she pulled her head up to look at him, he kissed her cheek where a tear had fallen, tasting the wet salt on her skin.

And then it happened. At first he meant for it to be an innocent, friendly peck on the lips, but he found himself going back for a second kiss and then lingered there on her mouth for more than the requisite 'friend' time, and she made no effort to pull away. In fact, he distinctly felt her relax into his arms, which was all the invitation he needed to open his mouth and gently taste her lips with his tongue. She responded in kind, and pressed her hands against his back as she moved her head to get a deeper kiss. And suddenly, Oliver found himself kissing Felicity in a way he hadn't kissed anyone in a long time, while people wearing funny hats in another city serenaded them with "Auld Lang Syne" over the computer speakers. It felt good. It felt right. It felt familiar, yet new. It felt like.. how did she put it? It felt like 'drunky kiss fireworks.'

Suddenly, Felicity's body went rigid and she ended the kiss abruptly, ripping her mouth away from Oliver's and turning her head so she could touch her earpeace. "Diggle, say again. What do you need?"

Oliver staggered backward a step, letting go of Felicity to regain his composure. Felicity sat down at the desk, her eyes on the computer screen with the camera feeds. "Yup, I got him. He's headed down the alleyway behind the warehouse. East."

Suddenly, Diggle appeared in the screen, chasing after, and then tackling, and then kicking the ass of the man on the screen. "Now you've got him," Felicity smiled.

"You sound like you're in a better mood," Diggle said as he handcuffed the driver to a drainage pipe. "You and Oliver kiss and make up?"

"What?" Felicity sat bolt upright in her chair, and turned to see what Oliver's expression would be but he was nowhere to be found. "Oliver?" she called. The only response was the sound of the door of the lair slamming shut.

"Something like that," she said into the mic, biting her lip.

* * *

"Yeah man, it's such bullshit," the man spat into a cellphone while adjusting his tie using his reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. "Do you know how much money I dropped on that table, only to have her bail like that?"

The elevator doors opened and the man stepped into the corridor of his apartment building, quickly making his way to his door and unlocking it. "I mean, I know Queen is her number one stud, but that doesn't mean I'm going to settle for sloppy seconds, am I right?" As he entered his darkened apartment, the man threw his keys on the table and fumbled around for a light switch. "That bitch better make sure I get my money's worth," he laughed into his phone as he finally thumbed on the light. "What the.."

Across the living room, in one of the designer chairs, a man in a green hood and a black mask perched. In his hands he had a bow and arrow pointed with deadly accuracy.

"Brad from Accounting?" the Arrow growled.

Brad from Accounting trembled. "..Maybe?"

The Arrow aimed his weapon in a downward direction from Brad's chest to his crotch. "Happy New Year," the Arrow said as he released the bowstring.


End file.
